and now onward

Whatever it takes to finish things, finish. You will learn more from a glorious failure than you ever will from something you never finished.
— neil gaiman

Today is a day of low-energy showing up. It is a day of questioning why I am doing this. Why am I committed to 100 days of writing here on this blog? What difference does it make? In the grand scheme of things, does it make a difference? If I stopped today and never came back here to this space, would it matter?

I am a starter. I like the challenge of beginning something new. I like having LOTS of something new to do. I am not always so good at finishing. 

When I finished my first 100 day project of creating excavated poetry, I was ecstatic! Here was proof that I do have the ability to follow through, to complete something. Maybe that is why I was so focused on doing another 100 day project ... to have that feeling of accomplishment again. 

Committing to writing here each day for 100 days, I sort of had an idea that it would be like taking a magic potion. I felt like it would spark my desire to write, to express myself in this form. I have shown up and it has not been easy to find word, to capture the what is going on within. Maybe I am not more comfortable using the paint to express myself. Maybe I put too many expectations, too much pressure, on this project. 

I have twenty more days to write. Then I will be packing up the computer and preparing to move and settle into my new home. I will go silent for a bit as I get my bearings, figure out a way to be in my space. Sometimes, like today, a voice in my head says to just go ahead now. Be done. It doesn't matter if I stop now. 

But I can't. 

I have to show up, finish up, complete what I have started. With each day, with each word, I am changing my narrative. I am changing the story about me. 

I don't have to be she who doesn't follow through. I am proving to myself that I can commit and work. 

Today was an exercise in being here, writing for ten minutes, to show myself that it is not as difficult that I make it seem. And now . . . Onward.